Page 82 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

I blank, trying to think of a good lie. Something that will cover my tracks and throw Madison off my scent. But when her dark brown eyes lift to mine, an unexpected dam of emotions breaks. Everything I’ve kept bottled up since first finding that email from Colette rushes to the surface, and before I know it, I’m sinking to the floor—sobbing.

Maddie drops to her knees and grabs me around the shoulders in the fiercest, most protective hug in the world. She pulls me into her arms, and I let her even when my pride is demanding that I get up.

Instead, I sit here for a while, crying and crying and crying while Maddie rocks me in her arms. She pushes my hair from mytemples while I continue on as a disgusting conveyor belt of snot and tears. I’m going to be so embarrassed about this tomorrow but for tonight, I cry.

“Emily, tell me what happened.”

So I do. It’s a muffled mess but I somehow get it out even between the hiccups. I tell her absolutely everything except for the part where I love Jack and that he’s AJ Ranger. And all while I’m talking and relaying the story of writing and editing and how much hope I felt for the whole process until Colette dumped it into a trash compactor, I realize that every damn thing Jack said was right. I love it. I love writing more than I’ve loved doing anything in a long time. And to give that up would hurt more than I care to think about. Possibly more than hearing Colette tell me my characters were as bland as burned toast.

It was just so unexpected. Maybe I was naïve, but…I thought it was good. I thought the book was good and I loved my story.

Madison’s face is livid. “I am going to fly back to New York, because I assume that’s where Miss Colette lives, and I’m going to chew fifteen pieces of Dubble Bubble and then I’m going to stick them all in her hair while she’s sleeping. And then after she wakes up and sees the horror show in her hair, I’m going to pop out of the closet and cut it all off in the most jagged terrible cut she’s ever had!”

I laugh and wipe my nose. “Stop it.”

“No.” She squeezes me like I’m a giant lemon. “No one is mean to my big sister and gets away with it.”

This of course brings fresh tears to my eyes. My heart whispers to me how deeply it needed this.

“I’m sorry for crying so much,” I say, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I seem to be doing this a lot lately.”

“That’s okay. I always cry a lot. It feels good.”

I know this about her. I’ve witnessed it. I’ve held her through it.And I’ve always been jealous of the way Maddie is reckless with her emotions. She throws her arms out wide and sends tears from her eyes that could rival Niagara Falls. And then ten minutes later, she’s dancing and singing along to her favorite pop song while making brownies on a random Tuesday at three-thirty. Her capacity to feel everything all the time is astounding. And I’ve missed the wild energy she brings to every space she enters.

“I hate to cry.” Just saying the word seems to have the same effect as mentioning a yawn. I’m sobbing again. “I don’t know how to stop once I get going.”

Maddie laughs gently at me. “That’s probably because you’re always holding it in for too long. The trick is to have little breakdowns all along the way.”

I look up at her, trying to determine if that was a joke, but it wasn’t. She’s serious as she pets my hair out of my face. “I’m no therapist by any stretch of the imagination, but I do have quite a bit of experience with tears—and in my thirty years on this earth, I’ve found that crying starts to feel like exercise. The more you do it, the more comfortable you become with it. And then it isn’t so overwhelming anymore.” She shakes me gently on my shoulder. “Cry more, Emily!”

“But that sounds atrocious.”

She lets go now and crosses her legs. “You would think that.”

I use the back of my hand to absorb the wetness from my face. “I’m sorry I’m dumping all of my problems on you, though. I feel terrible about it since you were having such a bad night too.”

“I’m not sorry at all. I’m thankful for it, in fact. It was nice to know for once when you need some emotional support.”

“That’s not your job, though.”

“And it’s never been your job either,” says Maddie, her voice shockingly firm. In fact, it’s a tone I didn’t even know she was capable of using. I watch silently as she tips forward and sandwiches myhands in hers. “Emily…you take on too much—and you hold yourself to this impossible standard of living that no one can survive on. And to be quite honest, it’s nice to see that you struggle just like the rest of us. That you need me occasionally just like I need you. So stop letting your pride and your perfectionism get in the way, and let me make you brownies, and tuck you into your favorite blanket, and coddle you while you feel like shit…okay?”

I nod, knowing she’s right. “Okay.”

“Good. And then…tomorrow, you’re going to let me read your book so that I can lavish you with compliments and tell you what an incredible writer you are so that you’ll send the damn thing out to more agents.”

“Maddie…I don’t know if…”

She puts her finger to my lips to silence me. “No excuses, Emily. You’re the toughest woman I know—and you deserve everything your heart desires. Not only that, but if Jackson Bennett thought your book was good, I know it is because that man has the best taste in the world.” She says this not even knowing that he is a world-famous author. “You can do hard things, Emily. I’ve seen it. This is just a new kind of scary for you. It’s something you’re doing on your own, not for anyone else, but for you. And that can make a person feel extra exposed sometimes. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it to push through—because the reward in the end will be that much sweeter.”

And there it is. That flicker I couldn’t pinpoint earlier grows to life, bold and bright.

I stare at her, my heart sinking from what I need to do. “Dammit, Madison.”

“What?”

I shut my eyes. “I wish you hadn’t said all of that.”

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